Sometimes the stranger you meet on this pilgrim’s journey through life is the person that others see you to be. Self-examination is often not the easiest thing to do. Some recent interactions have sent me down that winding path. For now, it’s expressing itself in a reluctance to post much on social media, and avoidance of some of the people with whom I normally interact. I’m still parsing some things that were said online and in real life. In the case of Facebook, I think abandoning the platform isn’t an option, because of an organization page that I need to maintain. But I think a period of minimization is perhaps called for. I’m pretty sure the world can exist without my opinions for a little while, and I know my head needs to clear a bit while I’m waiting for enlightenment and understanding to come.
So once again I’m sitting here on the weekly conference call for this one project I’m on. This is one of those projects that makes me a firm believer in past lives and karma, and also that in a past life I must have done some bad, bad things. It has been essentially the same call for over a year – the client has the same problems, they’re going to do the same things to address those, they’re always about to do those things, but week after week they haven’t been done. And there’s one person on the call who I call Acid Trip Girl, because it’s like listening to someone on an acid trip. If I took a drink every time she mentions stored procedures I would be laying out dead drunk every Thursday afternoon. It’s a classic case of “why use ten words to explain when I cane use a hundred”. But it isn’t nice to talk about people so I’ll stop.
In springtime the flowers,
Like men standing before the old gods,
Lift their faces up to find their fate
Feeling the warmth of the new sun
Feeling the cool of the new earth
Seeded by fate
This is the way we know ourselves
Dancing in the winds
Dancing to songs that don’t belong to us
One of my garage doors has been occasionally jamming for a while. I’d figured out that the bottom roller on one side was for some reason working its way out of the back of the bracket and getting crosswise, so when it jammed again when we got home from a trip this weekend I decided to go ahead and fix it. The bracket had gotten slightly torqued and there was stress on the bottom screw, and when I backed it out with my drill it shot off across the garage. I put the new roller in, replaced the bracket and one screw, and started looking for the missing one. I looked inside and outside the garage, with no luck. At one point, the door into the house opened slightly (it was windy this morning), and I went over and pulled it to, then resumed looking for the screw. A couple of minutes later, the door opened slightly again. Knowing my wife hates for that door to be open, I went over again to shut it, and there right in the center of the doorway was the screw I was looking for. Maybe it was coincidence. But I like to think I have a resident Casper, who figured I could use a bit of help this morning.
1960 – there are 100 places at the table. White men sit at all of them. As it should be.
1970 – there are 100 places at the table. White men sit at 99 of them. Change is good.
1980 – there are 100 places at the table. White men sit at 97 of them. Yes, change is good.
1990 – there are 100 places at the table. White men sit at 93 of them. Diversity is a good thing.
2000 – there are 100 places at the table. White men sit at 88 of them. See how diverse we are?
2010 – there are 100 places at the table. White men sit at 82 of them. Diversity is good, but diversity for the sake of diversity?
2018 – there are 100 places at the table. White men sit at 75 of them. WHITE MEN ARE UNDER THREAT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!